Time Loves a Hero by Allen Steele Page B

L’Enfant Plaza, yet there was always the slim chance that he might spot the impostor on the sidewalk. And even if he didn’t, he needed time to think.…
    Why would anyone impersonate a science fiction author just to talk to him? That was the big question, of course, but besides why? there was also how? The impersonation had been nearly perfect; not only had the impostor looked exactly like Gregory Benford, but—judging from the brief conversation Murphy had with the real Benford on the phone—he sounded like him as well. True, a good actor might be able to don a wig, a false beard, and fake glasses. An even more talented actor could mimic someone’s voice …
    But why go to so much trouble?
    Buttoning up his parka against the cold, his head lowered against the wind, Murphy strode down the sidewalk. As he reached the corner and waited for the green Walk light, another thought occurred to him: hadn’t he read somewhere that Gregory Benford had a twin brother?
    Yes, he did: James Benford, another physicist, an identical twin who had also written some science fiction, both on his own and in collaboration with his more famous sibling. Could that be the person who …?
    No. Murphy shook his head as the light changed and he stepped into the street. That didn’t make sense either. For one thing, why would Jim Benford want to impersonate his brother? Perhaps as a practical joke, but what would be the point if the intended victim was a complete stranger? And for another, Jim Benford wouldn’t have made the mistakes that had gradually tipped him off: not knowing that c was the common variable for the speed of light, for instance, or being unaware that his brother had written a time-machine novel.
    He could always call Greg Benford again, once he had returned to the office. Yeah, sure; Murphy could imagine how that conversation would go. Hello, Dr. Benford? You don’t know me, but my name’s David Murphy and I work for NASA Headquarters in Washington, and I just had lunch with someone who looks exactly like you … well, yes, I know there’s a lot of guys who kinda look like you, but this guy said he was you, and … anyway, can you tell me where your brother is right now, and if he has a weird sense of humor? Right. And if he was Greg Benford, he’d call someone at NASA to say that some wacko named Murphy was asking bizarre questions about him and his brother Jim.
    The sky had begun to spit snow again. Glancing up, Murphy could make out the Capitol, obscured behind a milk white haze beyond the Reflecting Pool. He lowered his gaze again, began making his way back up Independence toward the Air and Space. No, better leave the real Gregory Benford out of this. Yet whoever the impostor was, he knew enough about Murphy to know that he would have been impressed enough with Benford’s reputation to meet with him for lunch to discuss …
    An article in Analog about time travel.
    Murphy stopped. That was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it? Forget for a moment whom he had met; it was the subject of their conversation that mattered.
    This was the second time today that someone had paid undue attention to a piece he had written.
    Despite the warmth of his parka, Murphy felt a chill run down his spine. First, a meeting with a senior NASA administrator, who had expressed concern that Murphy might somehow embarrass the agency by writing about UFOs and time travel, and then requested … no, mandated, really … that any future articles he wrote be submitted in advance to the Public Affairs Office. Then, less than an hour after that meeting, a phone call from someone pretending to be a noted physicist and author, who in turn wanted to know where he had gained the inspiration to write the same article …
    How much of a coincidence could that be?
    Murphy pulled up the parka’s hood and tucked his hands deep in its pockets. For some reason, his article had attracted